


Defying Expectations

by poplarpando



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alpha Bucky Barnes, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Implied Mpreg, M/M, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Steve Rogers, Trans Alpha Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-07-28 19:56:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7654591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poplarpando/pseuds/poplarpando
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"By the time they got home that day, Bucky’d had a black eye and Steve had gotten blood on the collar of his new shirt. His Ma took one look at them and sent them to get cleaned up with a brisk swat, and Steve had grinned at him, so fierce and beautiful, still high on their narrowly-won victory, and Bucky was lost." </p>
<p>Written for hobbitdragon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Defying Expectations

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hobbitdragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hobbitdragon/gifts).



> Just in case Tumblr goes down sometime in the future, I figured I'd archive this over here also.
> 
> This was written for hobbitdragon way back during the defunct Omega Steve Fic Exchange. I had a lot of prompts to pick from, but I ultimately chose: 
> 
> "Steve/Bucky"   
> "Steve is super proud of his omega status, fierce as hell about it, and part of being an omega male is being a guy with a cunt. Socially people perceive him as "less male" because he has no balls and is capable of getting pregnant but he gives NO FUCKS about this, he knows who he is, and he is taking no bullshit from anyone about it."  
> "Also, please no pregnancy even if he is capable of it."  
> "bottom Steve"   
> "trans/gender-variant characters"   
> "alternate anatomies (men with vaginas, women with cocks, betas with no gonads, etc)"   
> "cross-designation identities (characters who are assigned alpha/beta/omega but identify as another)"
> 
> Not my usual A/B/O headcanon, but it was a lot of fun to write, as well as my first explicit fic. Hope you all like it!

There was a day, back somewhere in ‘35 or something, that would stick in Bucky’s mind until the day he died. It was a few days after Steve’s birthday, and it had been raining all day; the lots and alleys they usually frequented soupy with mud and soggy litter. It made scents hard to distinguish, both theirs, and a trio of older boys looking for trouble in any of its many forms.  
  


Things had been mostly civil at first, sure; both his and Steve’s mamas had taught them better than to be outright rude for no reason. Both of them got their hackles up, though, when the jeering started.  
  


By the time they got home that day, Bucky’d had a black eye and Steve had gotten blood on the collar of his new shirt. His Ma took one look at them and sent them to get cleaned up with a brisk swat, and Steve had grinned at him, so fierce and beautiful, still high on their narrowly-won victory, and Bucky was lost.   
  


He kept that fact to himself, though, somewhat torn with what it could mean for the future.

* * *

  
The Winter Soldier listened passively to the comm in his ear as he set up for his shot, obscured by little more than conveniently-poor lighting and an abandoned mop, while Steve let Rumlow - again - think that he’d outsmarted, outmaneuvered, or otherwise trapped Captain Anerica in a large, moderately clear building whose walls could easily be broken through by a supersoldier.  
  


In other words, a fairly typical autumn afternoon.  
  


James had just loaded in a tranquilizer - political tensions had been bad lately, and wouldn’t be helped by the sudden appearance of a dead body on the news that could in any way get linked back to a 'superhero’ - when the name calling started, and all his careful planning went out the window.  
  


“Come out and face me like a man, Rogers,” Rumlow taunted, weapons whirring threateningly. “Or do you not have the _balls_ for that?”  
  


The shield rang against the side of his helmet before the Winter Soldier was halfway through vaulting the ladder to intervene.  
  


They never learned.

* * *

Decades - centuries, even - of media stereotypes had built up a pretty solid social image of the expected way an omega would look, act, and think. Steve had always been an exception to that; back before the Serum made him too big and strong to fit their image of the fine-featured Omega of Culture, whose utmost concern was The Home, while their Alpha was the Guardian and Provider, they instead found him too sickly and frail, far too narrow in the hips and altogether unsuitable for raising children.  
  


Back then, they’d even had a neighbor once with a heavily inflated ego and a permanent infant on his hip, that suggested Steve should just be sterilized 'for the good of all children’s futures’.  
  


Bucky had nearly decked him, if not for the ever-present baby.  
  


(Later, as they were moving on to a new apartment, he may have asked to use the restroom of the family living one floor directly above the unpleasant neigbor, and deliberately clogged the bathtub so it would overflow the next time it was used.)  
  


Steve never cared about any of that, though, happily defending anyone he thought needed it, attending as much school as finances allowed, and doing everything twice as insistently, head held high, whenever anyone cast aspirations against his designation.  
  


“The contents of my pants have nothing to do with my ability to do”  whatever was in question, he used to say. Bucky generally tried to live up to his example in this respect, despite the vague inner-churning of his stomach when it came to designations. Other than him, the only people to take him at face value, without some sort of condescension or 'proving himself’ were Doctor Erskine (who wanted him to prove something else entirely) and Peggy Carter.   
  


Steve and Peggy had been a dynamite couple during the war, and Bucky was still honestly surprised Steve didn’t wind up pregnant, what with the heated looks those two shared sometimes. Really, though, it probably came down to professionalism; Steve, though now visually apparently capable of war, still probably felt like people were judging his presence, and the brass seemed to think that just because Carter had tits, that the Alpha was somehow inferior as an officer, and scrutinized her every move accordingly.  
  


It was stupid, and incredibly petty, but Bucky was still grateful they’d never shared a heat, at least, and maybe never even gotten each other’s clothes off.

* * *

  
“How are you feeling? Can I get you anything?” Steve asked, but James just shook his head and scooted into the corner of the couch. He waited while Steve snagged one of their throw blankets, then slid his metal arm around him when he sat down. Steve’s temperature was slightly elevated; in a few weeks, his heat would start.  
  


“i’m all right. The procedure took a lot out of me, is all.”  
  


Steve slumped over until he could comfortably rest his head on James’ shoulder, then turned enough to kiss his stubbled jaw. “Everything go okay?”  
  


“Yeah,” he answered, then lowered his voice some when a door opened nearby. “Doctor Cho already did most of the major work herself, and her genetic virus thing will do the rest over time. A few booster shots about once a month to speed things along, and the whole thing should be completely finished by this time next year or so.”  
  


“I’m glad Helen could help you, Alpha,” Steve whispered against his skin, and it still gave him goosebumps, but now there was a different sort of twisting in his gut than before. It felt _right_.

 

“Thanks,” he answered, then shifted enough that Steve had to raise his head, so he could lean down and nibble his ear lightly. “That doesn’t mean we have to wait a year for me to knot you tight and fill you up, though.” He traced the shell of his ear with his tongue and kissed just behind it, sliding his free hand under the throw blanket meaningfully. “We could do that right now, even, if you want.”  
  


Steve laughed breathlessly as James cupped then squeezed him, probing back with one finger for the tell-tale dampness of Steve’s aroused cunt. He just had his hand mostly positioned to stroke and rub him simultaneously when Clint walked through the doorway and stopped short.  
  


“Man, it’s still weird to see my childhood heroes all snuggled up together on the couch,” he declared, then gave them a skeptical look. “You aren’t… 'canoodling’, are you?”  
  


“And what if we were?” James asked, some of his arousal fading out of defensiveness. If they were going to be given a hard time, he was prepared to give one back. From the spark of fire in Steve’s eyes, his thoughts seemed to be along the same lines, even though James could feel a throb of spreading wetness from his cunt with his finger.  
  


“Man, just go to your floor if you’re gonna get naked. I eat breakfast on that couch, here in this public room, on the public floor. I like to pretend sex doesn’t happen in places where children are welcome, thanks.” That said, he made a show of covering his eyes with one hand, and feeling out with the other for the exit on the far side of the room.  
  


Steve slumped against him once Clint had finally left, then pushed his groin into his hand a little. “So, are we 'gonna get naked’, Buck?”  
  


James gave him a squeeze, then slowly trailed his hand away.  He grinned crookedly, “Race you to the elevator.”  
  


He sprang from the couch and ran, Steve right beside him.

* * *

  
“Our-oh,” Steve moaned, and James gave his prick a departing lick before focusing on his cunt, trying to get him soaking wet. He knew from hearsay, and a couple less-than-stellar personal experiences, that it was sometimes hard to get wet enough outside of a heat for good sex, just by virtue of the fact that an Omega’s ovotestes split their focus as opposed to dedicated ovaries. He dipped his tongue in and out several times, flicking it around with purpose, and Steve’s leg shook; something thwapped James lightly in the side, and Steve tried to speak again. “Our pants, Bu-uck.”  
  


James straightened, then wrapped his flesh hand around Steve’s penis, rubbing his thumb over the head almost-too-roughly as he looked and sure enough, Steve’s pants were wrapped around one calf, and his own were wrapped around both knees and two steps from bursting a seam, from how taut he’d pulled them. Also his left foot still had a sock on it, apparently.  
  


“We make quite the picture, don’t we?” he observed humorously, and Steve keened insistently. He pushed with his somewhat clothed leg at James’ knee, and nearly toppled him.  
  


“Thought we were going for naked, here?” he panted, grinding up into his hand, then reached out with his own to haul James up to kiss him fiercely. James took the opportunity the change in position offered to hump his groin against Steve’s thigh, new skin still deliciously sensitive there.  
  


“Absolutely,” he agreed, carefully kicking their pants and his sock off, then off the bed entirely. “Gotta knot you good since the plumbing’s finally right, don’t I?”  
Steve groaned, then manhandled James over onto his back so he could straddle him, then sank down on his cock, not quite wet enough for a smooth glide, but enough that it wasn’t painful. “You looking to get me pregnant or something, Alpha?”  
  


James shuddered and shoved his hips up into Steve’s movements, dick already throbbing a little at the base as he gazed up at Steve and imagined it, imagined him maybe round with a new life he helped put there, or carrying to the back and looking just the same, but with a beautiful life they both knew was growing in there.  
  


“Firing blanks right now,” he gasped, both hands grasping at Steve’s maybe-still-too-narrow hips, looking for an opportunity to turn the tables again and pound into Steve until his knot swelled too big and caught caught inside for the first time. It had already puffed out a little, scraping against the base of Steve’s cock and along his rim on each slide in and out.  "Got about a month until I make viable swimmers again.“  
  


"Not sure I’m ready for kids ann-anyway, yet,” Steve warbled, mind still moving as fast as his hips, and Bucky reached up to tweak his nipples appreciatively; his Stevie had never been dumb, no matter what anyone said. Steve’s chest flushed an attractive pink, and he reached to hold his cock down against Bucky’s stomach, rubbing on each swivel of his hips and leaving little trails of moisture in his wake. Bucky watched for a moment, feeling the stick and drag of it against the hair there, then used Steve’s offset balance to flip them, catching a thigh with each hand and holding them up and out. He jackhammered his body into Steve’s mercilessly, pausing only now and then while deep inside to grind Steve’s cock between their stomachs.  
  


“Doesn’t mean I can’t pretend to try, does it?” he panted, straining more and more with each thrust to move his rapidly-expanding knot through Steve’s folds and rim, balls drawn taut to his body. Steve moaned, then pulled his head down to press biting kisses into his neck.  
  


“Stuff me so full I leak for days, Buck,” he demanded, and the last of his hesitation dissolved away. He heaved their bodies together so hard they slid along the bed until he pushed in with one last, wet pop and the knot swelled fully, hot and hard with blood as he gushed semen into the tight squeeze of Steve’s cunt. The head of his cock just brushed Steve’s cervix, and he mewled with every hot pulse. Bucky jacked him in time to the pulses, again rubbing his thumb over the tip, around the crown and against the slit in particular, and bent his head to suck and gently nibble Steve’s nipples.  
  


Steve’s whole body jerked with each motion, coiling even tighter, until he choked on air and came, spurting a relatively meager load from an already overtaxed system over Bucky’s hand. The almost too-tight pressure in Steve’s cunt lessened as his cervix jerked and pulsed open, flooding more and more of Bucky’s emissions further inside. Someone moaned, and it took Bucky and embarrassingly long time to realize it was him.  
  


As each release lessened in both quantity and severity, Steve pulled James down, kissing him softly, adoringly. He trembled, then slid his arms around Steve - right near his waist, left by his neck - even as his hips still hitched minutely into his body.  
  


“Love you,” he mumbled, burying his nose into Steve’s neck for a moment, smelling the two of them and sex and a little bit of laundry detergent from the sheets that probably needed to be changed now, then trailed gentle kisses along the slope of Steve’s shoulder.  
  


“Love you, too, Buck,” Steve replied, then took the initiative to feel around the bed for one of the blankets they’d kicked away. He hummed appreciatively at what the change in position did to where they were locked together, then flopped a corner of the blanket over them, which was barely enough to cover James’ ass but would at least preserve some of their dignity if someone got the bright idea to disturb them.  
  


“You should try to sleep; we’ll be here a while,” James advised, too wired from the flood of hormones that was biology’s way him staking a claim on the individual his dick was buried in by being prepared to beat away would-be suitors, and loving the new sensation. Steve just hummed though, and trailed one hand over the knobs of his spine, refusing to bow to even biology’s dictation of what an Omega was by staying awake, even when his body tried to turn all focus to recovery and getting the influx of 'sperm’ to a viable egg.  
  


“Wanna look at you, instead,” Steve said after a long moment, eyes cracked open to beautiful blue slits meaningfully. James’ gut twisted hopelessly with affection, so he nosed the hair plastered to Steve’s forehead aside and kissed him.  
  


“Sap.”


End file.
